


Of Baked Goods and Starting Over

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anniversary, Bakery, Flirting, Good Parents John Winchester & Mary Winchester, Human Gabriel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Misuse of pie filling, Post-Divorce, RPSS2017, Sam Winchester is So Done, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: John and Mary's 40th wedding anniversary is coming up and Sam is going to kill Dean if he doesn't get the cake for the party they're throwing. But between work and trying not to deal with being kinda-recently divorced, Dean's running out of time. Gabriel is a local baker who moved to Lawrence to get away from the busy NYC lifestyle he'd been living. Some car trouble brings them together so Dean and Gabe can work out a business deal and, maybe, a little something for themselves, too.





	1. Dean's in trouble with Sammy...again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucy (nyxnarciss)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxnarciss/gifts).



> This is for Saucy, written for Rare Pair Secret Santa 2017, who had Dean/Gabriel as one of their preferred pairings and requested an AU.
> 
> It's labeled mature for language but there's nothing too risque going on. That being said, if anyone wants the "missing chapter" with the naughty bits, it is possible (but not guaranteed).

“Yo, Dean!”

“What?” floated up from under a silver Corolla, speaker unseen.

Ash mosied around to the other side of the car and addressed the cover-all clad legs sticking out from underneath. “Call for ya, boss.”

“Who is it?” Dean asked, continuing to unscrew the bolts holding the sedan’s oil pan in place.

“Sam.”

A loud clank was followed by a stream of profanity. “Goddamnit, Ash! Told you to take a message if he called! Tell him I’m meeting with a customer.”

“ _ Nice, Dean--real nice. _ ”

Thump _. _ “Son of a bitch!” Dean rolled out from under the car and got to his feet, massaging his wounded forehead while he stared Ash down. “What the hell, Ash?!” Dean whisper-screamed. “You put him on speaker?”

The mulleted mechanic shrugged. “Figured it’d be easier for you to talk and work if I did.” He stuck the phone out, not even flinching when Dean ripped it from his hand.

Covering the mouthpiece, Dean spat, “You’re so fucking fired, Ash!”

Shrugging again, Ash made his way back to the customer service area. “Not the first time, man,” he called over his shoulder before the door swung shut.

Sighing, Dean considered the phone. The gentle vibrations he felt against the heel of his hand meant Sam was yelling already.  _ That bodes well for this conversation _ he thought to himself. With another soul-deep sigh, he gathered the patience to deal with his brother and uncovered the speaker.

“ _ \--sked one goddamn thing from you, Dean--one! Jess and I are running ourselves ragged planning this party, picking up every ball you dropped-- _ ”

“What?! Name ONE thing you asked that I didn’t do, Sam?”

Sam’s bitchface came through loud and clear. “ _ Well, gee, Dean, there’s the venue-- _ ”

“I got us a place! Not my fault it wasn’t good enough for Your Majesties!”

Huffing, Sam replied, “ _ We all love The Roadhouse, Dean, but even Ellen and Jo said we had no business trying to throw Mom and Dad’s party at a dive bar. _ ”

“Fine!” Dean spat, “I got the band, too, but once again--”

“ _ Pretty sure a Zeppelin cover band isn’t high on Mom’s list seeing as how she doesn’t even let Dad listen to his records when she’s around. _ ” 

OK, so MAYBE Sam had a point there _. _ “Look, Sam--”

“ _ No, you look, Dean! When are you going to order the damn cake? _ ” asked the younger Winchester. “ _ It’s not like it’s that hard to find a bakery around here, but even the best chef needs some notice to make a damn wedding cake! We’ve only got two weeks left-- _ ” 

“‘Scuse me--can I get some assistance here?”

Startled, Dean pressed the phone against his leg and turned to face the speaker. He was probably a little older than Dean, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes a little deeper than Dean’s own, but the wavy chestnut locks just long enough to curl under his ears didn’t hold a hint of grey anywhere. He looked like a guy more used to jokes and laughs but right now worry pressed his lips into a thin line and filled his whiskey-hued eyes.  

“Yeah, man, I own the place, actually. What can I help you with?”

Before he could respond, the diatribe coming from the phone reached a fever pitch. Both men looked at the phone, then the stranger asked, “Do you need to deal with that?”

The phone chirped merrily as Dean disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto a nearby toolbox. “Nope. How can I help you?”

“I’m having a hell of a time getting my car started,” he shared, turning to walk out of the bays and into the parking lot. “Took me nearly 10 minutes before the ignition caught this morning and I thought I was going to have to be towed when it took twice as long trying to leave work earlier.”

Following the guy as he beelined for a white Shelby with gold racing stripes, Dean tried and failed not to notice just how nicely the stranger’s jeans fit in the back.  _ No harm in lookin’, right? _ mused a voice in his head that always sounded a lot like his friend Benny and tended to precede some of his more...memorable life moments.  _ Between Lisa and the getting-over-Lisa, it’s been a while since we appreciated everything a gentleman had to offer... _

_ C’mon, Dean _ , retorted the fun-hating voice his head that always sounded suspiciously like Sam,  _ even if he’s single, the guy’s a customer! Not really a great choice for yet another rebound-- _

_ But that hair looks just right for pulling while he-- _

“--didn’t want to turn it off just in case you couldn’t take the job. I’m in a rush, here.”

Dean abruptly cut off the internal debate and stopped short. “Look, man--”

“Gabriel. Gabriel Odinson”

“Dean Winchester. OK, look, Gabriel: it sounds like something simple with the ignition or the electrical system. Problem is, either way I’m gonna have to send somebody for parts because we don’t get too many beauties like this one in here. I know my guy’ll have what you need so I can probably get it done before closing tonight, ok?”

Panic began to seep into Gabriel’s expression. “No can do, Deano. I really need to get out of here quickly so I can get my deliveries done.”

“Deliveries?” Dean stepped closer to the car and saw distinctive white boxes in the backseat. “You work for a bakery?” he asked, unable to keep the interest out of his voice.

“I own ‘Sticky and Tricky’, about two miles from here. Heard of it?”

_ Yahtzee! _ “My brother brought a bunch of your stuff to the last family thing we all had. I’m definitely a fan of your work.” Dean turned to face Gabriel and crooked up the left corner of his mouth in a smirk. “I think we might be able to come to an arrangement.”

An eyebrow rose in response. “Oh?”

“I need a big, fancy cake for my parents’ 40th anniversary party in a couple of weeks,” Dean shared, “and I think you’re just the man for the job.”

Gabriel let out a low whistle. “I usually just stick to the small stuff, Dean--pastries, cookies, cupcakes…”

Dean’s heart dropped for a second, but then he had a flash of intuition. “My bad, man. If you can’t do it--”

“Hold up one damn minute,” the other man practically growled, closing on Dean in a way that was equal parts menacing and encouraging. “I never said I couldn’t do it, but if I’m going to put myself out like this, I wanna know what I get in return.”

_ That’s right, fishy, take the bait… _ ”I give you one of our beaters and help you switch over the deliveries to get you on the road ASAP while I fix your car.”

That eyebrow shot up again. 

“For free,” Dean quickly amended.

Gabriel crossed his arms. “I don’t give MY goodies away for free, Dean.”

Hands up in supplication, Dean shifted even closer to Gabriel before he smirked and replied, “I wouldn’t expect you to, being classy and all...maybe waive any rush charges you were thinking about and throw in delivery to the party?”

There was a spark of mischief in Gabriel’s golden brown eyes that told Dean this whole thing was going much better than he’d expected. “So, I scratch your back, you scratch mine?”

Licking his lips, Dean nodded. “Exactly.”

Gabriel took one last step forward, moving completely into Dean’s bubble and forcing him look down to maintain eye contact. “Tell you what, grease monkey,” he started, his voice pitched low and intimate into the scant space between them, “you bring my fixed car over to my shop when it’s done so we can work out the details on your order and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“You got it.”

“Excellent.”

They stared at each other for a few more breaths, tension building before being shattered completely. “Boss!” yelled Ash from the open bay door, “Sam’s threatening to come down here with naked baby pictures if you don’t--”

_ Goddamnit, Ash! _ “Be right there,” Dean called over, then turned back to look at Gabriel. “I gotta deal with this, Gabe. Ash’ll run out a set of keys and help you load your stuff.”

To his credit, the shorter man was at least trying to hold in a laugh, but his answering “sure thing, Boss” was dripping with mockery. Dean tried not to stomp across the parking lot in a huff, but he definitely tried to kill Ash with the glare he shot him as he snatched the phone out of his hand. 

“You are so--”

“Fucking fired. I know, Boss.” Again, the perpetually unflappable mechanic just shrugged it off and went to go do his boss’s bidding.

As he raised the phone to his ear, he could hear his brother already yelling and cut him off. “Hakuna your tatas, Sam. I got us a cake.”

_ “--swear to God if you ruin...wait, what? You’re still at work! There’s no way--” _

“Little brother, I am just THAT good,” Dean replied smoothly before filling in Sam on most of the ways the Universe smiled on him so far this afternoon. He’d been cockblocked enough by Ash already, so there was no way he was going to listen to Sam try to talk him out of flirting with the sexy little spitfire of a baker.


	2. Sticky and Tricky ain't just a name...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues, switching to Gabe's POV since it's his bakery.

Gabriel was NOT nervous. Nope, nein, nyet, no way, no how. He didn’t get nervous, not him: not about making cakes, definitely not about making special cakes for special occasions, and especially not about seeing hot mechanics who shouldn’t be able to look so goddamn edible in a goddamn coverall for Christ’s sake!

_ Breathe, Odinson, breathe. _

He focused on breathing while he straightened the four small cake plates and the four cups of icing on the small table in his kitchen. He didn’t have time to whip up a huge selection of cake flavors, but he also had Dean pegged as a man of pretty simple tastes. He’d been doing this a long time; if he could have a hundred percent success rate in Manhattan of all places, he’d be just fine in quiet Lawrence, Kansas. The slow-moving culture and laid-back way of life had been everything the overworked and overstressed baker had been looking for when he’d pulled up stakes and headed west three months ago.

More confident and composed, Gabriel moved around his kitchen smoothly, double-checking that nearly everything was ready for business tomorrow. He was testing to see if his scratch-made pie fillings had cooled enough to put away when the bell over his door rang out through the small storefront.

“Hello? Gabe?”

Gabriel took one more deep breath, told himself to  _ grow the fuck up, idiot! _ , and went through the kitchen doors calling, “Dean! How’s my baby?”. 

Dean swaggered up to the customer side of the counter. His jeans clung to his gently bowed legs in a completely unfair way, and the baker forced his steps to remain steady and his eyes to focus upward to try to avoid drooling. 

Smiling, he leaned on the counter while dangling Gabriel’s keys in front of him. “Running perfect--it almost hurts to give her back. She rides like a dream, man.”

Barely catching the “just like her owner” that wanted to slip out-- _ get some fucking chill, Odinson! _ \--Gabe took the offered keys with a smile. “Eyes getting a little greener, there, Dean? Not my fault if you’re stuck driving some sensible family vehicle--”  

Straightening up like a shot, Dean’s whole body nearly bristled with defensiveness. “Whoa! Do I look like the minivan-driving-soccer-dad type to you? Even when I was married I drove MY car. Ain’t nobody out there who could make me give up the Impala for some boring-ass piece of suburbia!”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Sorry about that, Dean. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” he said, apology evident in his tone.

A pretty pink blush spread across Dean’s cheeks as he cast his eyes down towards the counter. “Sorry, man,” Dean mumbled. “Got divorced a few months ago. You didn’t know. Shouldn’tve jumped all over you like that.”

_ Oh, feel free to jump--get a goddamn grip, man! _ “We’re good. So, cake?”

Dean’s gaze came back up and he grabbed onto that lifeline, gratitude showing all over his face. “Definitely cake.”

Motioning for Dean to follow him, Gabriel led the way into the kitchen and gestured for Dean to sit down at the table. He explained the different icing choices and cake flavors and instructed Dean to spread a different icing onto each bite of each cake to find the combination he thought was best.

Apparently, Gabriel had chosen a little too well. He bit his lip in what he hoped looked like nerves while Dean moaned pornographically through every bite.  _ I’ve never wanted to be a fork so badly… _ He decided to salvage the last shreds of his sanity by putting the pie fillings he’d left out into their appropriate containers to be stored in the fridge for tomorrow. Focused on not spilling any of the juicy apple concoction he was working with, he was surprised to hear Dean right behind him.

“Whatcha got there, Gabe?” Dean asked almost nonchalantly, trying to look over the baker’s shoulder.

“Apple pie filling for tomorrow’s batch,” Gabriel replied, turning around with the pot and spatula in his hands. Interest was written so plainly on the mechanics face that he just had to laugh. “I’m going out on a limb here and guessing you’d like a taste?”

Those amazing green eyes lit up immediately. “Dude, I love pie almost as much as my car, and if it tastes even half as good as the cakes and icings…”

Now it was Gabriel’s turn to blush. “You tell me,” he said, offering Dean the spatula.

Unexpectedly, Dean didn’t take the tool from Gabriel before taking his taste; instead, he just leaned forward and licked cinnamon-speckled syrup from the blade in the baker’s hands. Gabriel watched as his eyes closed and another of those self-control-shredding moans floated from those juicy pink lips. He couldn’t help licking his own lips in response, freezing in panic when Dean opened his eyes just in time to catch him.

There was a moment of uncertainty in those emerald orbs, but it was quickly replaced with a heat that made Gabriel shiver.

His professionalism made one last Hail Mary and Gabriel managed to choke out, “Made your decision yet?”

Dean erased the space between them, replying “Yup” before wrapping an arm around the shorter man’s waist and brushing his lips over Gabriel’s in the barest whisper of a kiss.

Gabriel threw the kitchen tools in his hands over his shoulders--and caution to the wind--before reaching up to pull Dean closer in a kiss of his own.


	3. Clean up on aisle...everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, still from Gabe's POV

“Gabriel?”

“Mmmph,” was the reply grunted into Dean’s bare shoulder.

“The tile’s getting a little cold, here, Gabe.”

With a dramatic sigh, the baker rolled away from Dean’s side and hopped to his feet. He leaned over and offered Dean a hand, clearly not bothered at all by either of their nakedness. Smiling, Dean took it and got up off the floor. They surveyed the damage together.

“I don’t want to even think about how many health code violations we just racked up here, Deano,” Gabriel quipped.

“Totally worth it,” Dean replied, smiling widely.

The answering snort reverberated around the kitchen. “Easy to say when you don’t have hours of cleaning and cooking ahead of you just to undo the damage.”

Gabriel felt Dean move up behind him and was surprised when the mechanic wrapped him up in a hug. Despite all the bare skin pressed together, there was nothing remotely sexual or flirtatious about the gesture. “I helped make the mess, so I’ll help you clean it up.”

Starting in surprise, the shorter man turned to look over his shoulder. “Really?”

Dean smiled down at him. “Yup. Plus, this way, maybe you get done in time to take me out to dinner. Y’know--make me feel a little less slutty for--”

This time an eyebrow arch joined the snort. “Oh, please! YOU should take ME out to dinner so I don’t feel like you’re just trying to pay for the cake using ‘services rendered’ instead of cash.”

Dean chuckled. “And here I was thinking this was you repaying my kindness for fixing your car for free…” He pulled back from Gabriel and started picking up the clothes strewn all over the place.

“How about we hash that all out and plan Mom and Dad’s cake while we work?” Dean said with a smile as he handed Gabe his boxers. “Gets us out to dinner faster that way.”

Laughing, Gabriel started to dress in the items that Dean was handing him. “You a model of efficiency, Dean, or just hungry?”

“Yup” came the cheerful reply from the other side of the island. Dean stood and tossed a sock towards Gabe, then leaned on the butcher’s block top with crossed arms and a smile. “I do have another ulterior motive, y’know.”

“Oh?” Gabe asked, trying not to sound nearly as interested as he actually was.

“Yeah. Think I might like to get to know you,” Dean said, then dropped his eyes and started fidgeting with some drying cherry pie filling that had ended up on the island top. “I mean, you are kinda fun to talk to, and you obviously have great taste in cars, even if the paint job is a little--”

“Don’t you trash-talk my car, Dean Winchester,” Gabriel replied with mock seriousness. Dean looked up at him and the baker couldn’t help but smile. “Talking sounds nice.”

They finished dressing in companionable silence, neither quite able to wipe the goofy smirks off of their faces and not really caring. Dean cleaned the kitchen while Gabe remade all of the destroyed fillings, both of them sharing themselves, agreeing to disagree on The Beatles vs The Rolling Stones but completely in sync that steak should always be consumed almost mooing.

All work finished, Dean held the door for Gabriel and waited while he locked up. They strolled down the street together toward Gabriel’s favorite Indian food place-- _ “Dean, may I be damned to make all my pastries with margarine and Splenda if I’m lying about how good Kali’s food is!” _ \--occasionally bumping shoulders and still not trying to keep the smiles from their faces.


End file.
